Issue 02: Why Does Everyone Hate Your Club?
In football, it’s not enough to love your club–you have to hate at least three others. Now, I’m a Liverpool fan, so it won’t take a lot for you to guess my Top Three Worst Clubs Of All Time (the correct top three, by the way). But that’s where the passion comes from. It’s what makes British sports British sports. Sometimes the best chants are not singing about your best player, but insulting the opposition.
And yet, when other fanbases insult your team… boy, does that sting! You can’t hate my club; that’s not how this works!
Alas, if you find yourself offended on behalf of the eleven men standing on the pitch who do not know you, don’t take it personally. There are plenty of reasons to despise a club and all of them are equally valid.
So, if you can’t figure out just why your club is trending on Twitter this week, consider the following categories.
1. Punching up
If you’ve ever experienced the unbridled joy of your club winning, you’ll know that everyone else is whining. Success breeds contempt–that’s just a fact. From Manchester United to Real Madrid, the giants of the game attract haters like moths to a very shiny flame.
For many, it’s not about the clubs themselves, but their fans. You can almost guarantee they’re loving it, even though they’re pretending not to gloat about it. And following a period of dominance, there’s always the worry of “plastic fans” infiltrating the game who are, funnily enough, always the loudest (looking at you, Manchester City post-takeover!).
Even if it’s not the fans, it’s the media lovefest. Pundits falling over themselves to wax poetic about “United DNA” or “The Galácticos”. For the rest of us, it’s a weekly reminder that our clubs are mere mortals compared to the celestial beings playing at the Bernabéu.
It all comes down to this very simple rule: the aim of the game in football is to win, unless you’re winning all the time, in which case, stop it! No fair!
2. The underdogs
There’s nothing better than a good underdog story… until the underdog actually wins.
When Leicester City won the Premier League in 2015/16, it was a serious upset. It’s a romantic story about a plucky team dismantling the hierarchy and disrupting the status quo. But for some bigger clubs (i.e., clubs more used to dominance), it had them scratching their heads. Arsenal finished ten points behind and, given the general personality of that fanbase, I can almost guarantee they were this close to giving the speech from Come Dine With Me.
Dear Lord, what a sad little life Leicester. You ruined the league, completely, so you could have the money, but I hope now you spend it on getting some lessons in grace and decorum because you have all the grace of a reversing dump truck without any tyres on.
The general response to Leicester’s upset was something along the lines of shrugging and muttering, “fair play.” But there are always people pushing the “not deserving it” narrative. No 20-year rebuilding project. No history of near-misses in major finals. Just sensible management and players who were nobodies until they weren’t.
So, why the resentment? Maybe it’s jealousy. Maybe it’s fear that “the way things have always been” isn’t quite as secure as we thought. Or maybe it’s just the fact that Leicester lifted the Premier League trophy before Spurs. Either way, the underdogs’ success proves one thing: sometimes football’s scriptwriters love a bit of chaos.
3. Tribal warfare
Familiarity breeds contempt, too. There’s no greater hatred than the kind reserved for your noisy next-door neighbour, and that’s why derby rivalries are the good stuff. This is war, waged on the terraces, in the streets, and occasionally over a roast chicken at your nan’s Sunday dinner if it’s a derby within the same city.
You don’t just dislike their club; you’re forced to encounter their fans in real life. They work in your office, drink in your pub, and—worst of all—insist on wearing their hideous kits around town. It’s enough to make you consider moving.
But the very best derbies transcend football. The political and religious implications of the Old Firm spring to mind. This is the part where I complain the art of the derby is dying in English football.
Anyway, derbies are what make football so brilliant. Yes, you can’t stand that club, but it wouldn’t be football without them.
4. Pragmatists vs. purists
Some football fans enjoy it when their team takes a pragmatic approach, grinding out results with cold, calculated efficiency. Others are all about the purist vision of Total Football. Whatever your idea of the ultimate playing style, chances are that you hate all the others.
Those pragmatic teams defend with their lives, frustrate opponents into submission, and win ugly. For their fans, this is perfectly fine–“we don’t care how it looks, we care that it works.” For everyone else, it’s a nightmare. Opposing fans label it boring. Anti-football.
In the same breath, it’s easy to criticise the meticulously organised tiki-taka of Guardiola’s Barcelona. Much more exciting to watch than parking the bus, and yet, for detractors, it’s possession for possession’s sake. The sort of football that leads your dad, world’s number one armchair manager, to bunch his fists up and yell “They’re just passing sideways again!” at the TV.
5. Reputation (Pep’s version)
Some clubs have histories and reputations that precede them. Take Leeds United, an important club in English football history, by all accounts. And yet, hated by many. The label “Dirty Leeds” has followed the club since the 60s, when Don Revie’s side were physical, brutal, and had an annoying tendency to win things.
Millwall has a reputation, too, primarily due to its fanbase who will make sure you’re aware of it when they visit your town. The “no one likes us, and we don’t care” mentality is a hallmark of any Millwall fan, and they wear it like a badge of honour.
History aside, there are clubs in the modern era developing somewhat of a reputation for themselves. Not for good reasons. The slow, creeping, ever-present, horrifying trend of soulless corporations taking over football across Europe has led many others to turn against certain clubs.
Red Bull and The City Group will likely get their paws on a few more teams yet, and even wholesome, salt-of-the-earth teams like Paris FC are not safe from the snapping jaws of corporate football, if their recent investment from Red Bull and LVMH is anything to go by.
Nation-states and multinationals are certainly taking over, and fans of many of these teams will accuse the haters of being jealous and call it a day. Is it hating, though? Or is it preservation?
You have to embrace the hate
Listen, if it feels like everyone hates your club, it means you’re usually doing something right. At the very least, it means you’re relevant–it means people care enough to talk about you and argue over you. At least, this is what I tell myself when people start acting insane in my TikTok comments.
Sometimes, hate means it’s time to self-reflect. Hull City, we’re looking at you; it’s time to stop singing “you’re getting mauled by the tigers”, it makes English football fans look bad in those American reaction videos.
But other times, hate can make you feel proud. Especially when you’re on the top of the table.
And at least we can all agree on one thing.
We all hate MK Dons.
Until next time,
Outside90